First there was the wind, rushing out
all around. A
shockwave of force swept outward, shaking buildings and knocking aside
anything not nailed down. A split second later, the roar of noise could
be heard, deafening to human ears. Seconds after that, the puff of
smoke could be visible from miles out in the countryside. It was as
though an atomic bomb had gone off, and this wasn’t too far
off.
Black Adam had arrived in Khandaq.
Soldiers were scrambling all over the
palace. Rifles
threatened to slip from palms sweaty with fear. The general and
dictator of Khandaq, Asim Muhannand, cowered in his bunker underneath
the place. He would do the same every time a rebellion broke out, which
was becoming more and more common over the past few months. Cower in
hiding and allow the ever-shrinking army to deal with the latest
insurrection. Soon Asim would have no more men willing to fight for
him, not that that ever occurred to the dictator.
All the same though, had his army been
ten times the
size it was at that moment, Asim Muhannand would have not been able to
defend against Black Adam. Bullets ricocheted off impenetrable skin,
often striking other uniformed soldiers. Those who died by friend fire
were the lucky ones. Those not so lucky fell to hands that could crush
coal into diamonds, and often applied that very pressure to those human
and fragile skulls. The effect was almost as messy as a super-sonic
punch square in the face.
Outside, the tanks were moving into
position. Before
any of them could open fire, however, a black figure streaked out the
palace. Hefting up one tank by its gun turret, Black Adam swept the
others aside like bowling pins. He then slammed his own tank against
the stone earth again and again until he struck metal. Under the metal
of that bunker was Asim Muhannand.
With precision speed and tremendous
force, Black
Adam plunged his hands through the metal and forced them apart. A hole
was torn in the bunker, and slowly Black Adam lowered himself into the
dark place.
“You will kill no more sons
and no more
mothers,” Black Adam stated to Asim Muhannand as simple fact.
It
was with a smile on his face that Black Adam took the former dictator
by the throat and lifted him off the ground. “From now on
that
privilege belongs only to me.”
Then, with a simple shifting of fingers,
Black Adam
popped the fragile human’s head off the shoulders. Holding
the
head in his bloody hands, Black Adam rose up out of the bunker and held
it high for the few remaining soldiers to witness.
“I am Teth-Adam, once ruler of
Khandaq!”
he declared. “I rule again! And just as my sons were taken
from
me,” continued Black Adam, remembering the deaths of his two
sons
millennia ago and the more recent injury between his legs,
“so
too shall your sons die in my service! For I shall not stop
here!”
Half a world away, and at the exact same
time as
Black Adam made this pronouncement, Wesley Dodds awoke suddenly from a
deep sleep. The Sandman had just hand a dream.
Inside a sprawling base on the moon, three
heroes sat around a grand table. One was a strange visitor from another
planet, another preyed on the cowardly and superstitious, while the
third was an ambassador of peace and ancient ideals. At that moment the
three were discussing what most of the world was discussing at that
moment.
“This is a political
matter,” Wonder
Woman stated again. “We should not act without the sanction
of
the United Nations.”
“Diana, one of our own has
just conquered a
country,” reiterated Superman. “This is entirely
what the
Justice League is about, stopping the threats that the rest of the
world can’t handle on their own.”
“Exactly,” agreed
Wonder Woman.
“Once the U.N. realizes this, they will ask us!”
“After they send in an army to
be
massacred?” asked Superman incredulously. “Black
Adam is
one of the most powerful beings on this planet. We’re the
only
ones capable of stopping him.”
“Dinah would
disagree,” the Batman said
for the first time. “And he was more dangerous then. Teth
Adam
was originally born in the Khandaq region thousands of years ago. For
all intents and purposes, this is an internal matter.”
“So you wouldn’t
object to American
metas attacking Washington?” asked Superman.
“No. Khandaq’s
history is rife with
military coups. This has precedent.”
“Thank you Bruce.”
The Batman bristled
slightly at Wonder Woman’s familiarity. She pretended not to
notice. “If we take action without proper authority, it will
appear to the world that we’re interfering in a
nation’s
affairs. I’m not talking about humans and metas,
Clark,”
she added. “This is how many nations view Western
society.”
“It already looks like
that,” Superman
argued. “How many people really know Black Adam’s
origin?
To their minds, a Western meta has just conquered a nation in their
region! What’s to stop him from spreading out?”
“We are,” answered
the Batman.
“The moment he makes war on a neighboring country,
we’ll be
able to act.”
“Only with proper U.N.
approval,” Wonder
Woman continued to say. “If we act without sanction, it makes
us
no better than Black Adam!”
“Sorry to interrupt,
guys,” broke in the
computerized voice of Oracle. Its digitized face appeared in hologram
over the table. “Someone has contacted me personally with
important information on Black Adam. I think you should hear him
out.”
“Send him through,
Oracle,” the Batman
demanded.
The digitized face of Oracle was
replaced by a
fedora hat and WWI era gas mask. The voice was slightly muffled and
tired, but strong. Everybody at the table recognized Wesley Dodds, the
Sandman.
“I take it that
you’re all discussing
Khandaq?” asked Sandman.
“Yes, but for now the matter
can wait.”
Wonder Woman gave Superman a glare that said it would. “What
can
we do to help you, Mr. Dodds?”
“Well, it’s actually
Khandaq that I was
calling about,” Sandman replied. “I plan on
entering the
country with a group of people, and it’s best if nobody
interferes.”
“Sir, we can’t let
you do this,”
began Superman.
“A group of metas taking an
action we publicly
refuse to sanction solves your problems,” the Batman said
curtly
to the man seated across from him.
“At your age, you
wouldn’t stand a
chance against Black Adam,” continued Superman, ignoring the
Batman’s snide remark. “Nobody in the old Justice
Society
would.”
“I’m not senile yet,
kid,” Sandman
answered. “The folks I’m bringing are all in their
prime
and able to hold their own against Black Adam. Shoot, if I
didn’t
have to I’d stay at the home sipping my Scotch.”
“You should stay home, Mr.
Dodds,”
Wonder Woman stated. “Without proper sanction we
can’t
permit you to lead a team with the purpose of bringing down a new
government.”
“What Khandaq has is not a
government,”
argued Superman.
“Black Adam declared himself
ruler. He’s
going by the times he was born in, and for me that’s
enough.”
“Quit your yapping,”
Sandman
interrupted. “If you were listening, you’d notice I
didn’t say anything about removing Black Adam from power. My
team’s just going to keep him busy.”
“Explain yourself,”
the Batman demanded.
“I had a dream,”
Sandman replied. And
then he told them all about it.
Wonder Woman nodded immediately and
started to rise
from her chair. “That sounds like a noble quest. If
you’d
like, I would even be willing to assist you.”
“That won’t be
necessary,” said
the retired hero. “In fact, too many of the wrong people will
screw things up. Dreams are tricky.”
“I well understand
that,” Wonder Woman
said with a smile.
“It’s still too
dangerous,” began
Superman.
“Then he’ll be
careful,” cut in
the Batman. “Besides, he’s not asking our
permission. Thank
you for informing us, Sandman.”
“You’re right about
the permission,
son,” Sandman went on. “This is an old friend of
mine
we’re talking about. Nothing you say will stop me from
bringing
him back.”
Wesley Dodds hung up the phone and
stepped back onto
the sidewalk. It had taken him over an hour to find a public phone in
the city. He’d had to ask a police officer, and the first one
asked hadn’t known. The old man who’d once gone by
the
colorful name of Sandman had been somewhat annoyed by the lack of
public phones. Everybody used cell phones nowadays. Fortunately, the
public phone that Wesley did find happened to be just outside of the
building he’d planned to visit after speaking with the
Justice
League.
The handsome brownstone was well known
to Wesley.
He’d been a frequent visitor of the building back in the day,
over fifty years ago. It was the old headquarters of the Justice
Society of America, and was Wesley understood it had recently been
converted into a museum.
Inside, the former headquarters did in
fact look
like a museum. There were displays on all the old members of the
Justice Society, and Wesley noticed displays on the members of Infinity
Inc. Ironically enough, the person Wesley had wanted to see was
standing near the display of her deceased husband. Or perhaps not so
ironic, Wesley reflected to himself. Hippolyta Trevor-Hall probably
passed by Hector Hall’s statue countless times without being
aware of it.
“Excuse me,” Wesley
said as he
approached the woman formerly known as Fury. “Hello, Ms.
Hall.
I’m Wesley Dodds.”
For a brief moment, it appeared that
Fury
wasn’t entirely sure who was speaking to her. Then a flash of
recognition passed over her face, and she extended her arm to take the
older hero’s hand.
“Oh, oh yes. It’s a
pleasure to meet
you, sir.”
Wesley waved the pleasantries aside.
“The
reason I’m here, Ms. Hall, is that I need to speak with you.
I
was told that you worked here at the museum.” He glanced at
the
statues of the Hall family. “It actually concerns him,
incidentally.”
At this mention, a dark shadow passed
over
Fury’s face. Her grip on Wesley’s hand tightened a
little.
“Hector is none of your concern, old man. I’m sick
and
tired of Sandmen intruding on my life, tearing it apart and taking
everything that I love. Do you hear me? Mention Hector or Daniel or
anything again and I’ll kill you.”
Rather than act pained, Wesley gave Fury
a quizzical
expression. But then he immediately became apologetic.
“I’m
deeply sorry. As a matter of fact, I was referring to Carter Hall. You
see, I had a dream-”
Before Wesley could continue, Fury had
grabbed him
by the front of the shirt and hefted him into the air. Though his
elderly frame wouldn’t have been of concern even to a woman
of
normal strength, for someone as strong as Fury it was practically
nothing.
“You have a lot of nerve
coming to me about
dreams!” yelled Fury. “Dreams killed my Hector,
took Daniel
away from me forever. Dreams ruined me life, old man!”
All appearances to the contrary, Wesley
Dodds was
not helpless. By pressing his fingers against specific points on
Fury’s wrists, he was able to release her grip on him.
Dropping
to the floor, Wesley immediately backed up.
“You have no idea how sorry I
am for your
loss,” Wesley told Fury. “Just a few months ago I
lost my
wife. But there’s a chance to save a life, and I need your
help
to achieve this. I contacted some people. They’ll be meeting
us
here. Once we’re all together, I’ll explain things,
but
until then I would appreciate it if you remained calm.”
Calm. At that moment it seemed almost
impossible for
Fury to ever be calm. She was trembling all over, trying to contain the
rage she could feel seething up inside of her. Looking at Wesley, she
saw a quite different Sandman. The one whom had taken away her perfect
life in the palace, sent her beloved husband to his second death and
announced that he would one day take away her unborn child. If not for
the main entrance doors opening a second time, Fury may well have
beaten Wesley Dodds to death with her bare hands.
Two men who could not have been more
different
walked into the JSA museum. One was instantly recognizable as Captain
Marvel in that red uniform with a golden thunderbolt on the chest. The
second man was much smaller than Captain Marvel, and less intimidating
in street cloths. There appeared to be a toy sheriff’s star
pinned to his leather jacket, and he held a long rod that glowed at one
end. At the sight of Fury, Starman aimed his Cosmic Rod at her. But
Captain Marvel extended his hand forward and forced Starman to lower it.
“Easy, Starman.
We’re all friends
here.” A large smile on his face, Captain Marvel nodded to
Sandman and he walked towards him and Fury. “Mr. Dodds, sir,
it’s an honor to meet you. And you must be Mrs.
Hall.” He
gave the lady a slight bow, and offered his hand.
“I’ve
heard a great deal about you, ma’am.”
Fury didn’t accept the hand.
Instead she just
looked at Captain Marvel coldly. Then she glared back at Wesley,
seething. Starman walked up from behind Captain Marvel, and shook
Sandman’s hand warmly.
“Wesley,” Jack
Knight said gravely.
“I’m so sorry about Dian.”
“I’m glad you could
make it,”
Wesley replied before glancing back at Captain Marvel. “Both
of
you. It means a great deal.”
“All dad had to say was you
needed my
help,” said Jack in response. “Well, and
his.” Jack
tilted his head to indicate Captain Marvel. “And that I was
supposed to contact him. I’m sorry again about that fire, by
the
way.” This last part, Starman was addressing to Captain
Marvel.
“I didn’t mean for the flare to be so close to that
tree.”
“We all make
mistakes,” said Captain
Marvel. “It’s just a good thing I was near the park
at the
time.” Captain Marvel didn’t add that
he’d been in
the park as Billy Batson, playing baseball with friends. “So,
Mr.
Dodds, sir, what is it that I can help you with?”
“He wants us all to
die,” Fury spoke up.
“Because I killed him, he wants me dead too. The both of you
will
just be in the way.”
Gently, Starman poked Sandman in the
shoulder with
his finger. “You feel alive to me, Wesley.” Then
Jack
looked at Fury. “Are you okay? If it’s drugs, I
have a
friend who can help you out. He had a serious problem for years, and he
ended up in the circus for it.”
“Please excuse Lyta.
She’s dealt with a
lot these past few years,” Wesley explained. “But
as I was
just telling her, somebody is coming back who can help. Unfortunately,
he’ll be in Khandaq.”
“Is it Hector?” Lyta
Hall asked,
hopefully. Right on top of this, Starman groaned, and Captain Marvel
spoke with a frown.
“I wouldn’t
recommend going into
Khandaq, sir. At least not until after I’ve dealt with Black
Adam. Wonder Woman says I shouldn’t, but Superman thinks
it’s the right thing to do, and I’m sure once they
agree on
that, the situation will be taken care of immediately.”
“We don’t have time
for that,”
Wesley Dodds urged. “I’m sorry, Lyta, but
it’s not
Hector. It’s Hawkman that’s coming back. I had a
dream.
Carter Hall is going to be born in Khandaq, and I need you three to
distract Black Adam while I find him.”
It was Jack Knight who said it best.
“Are you stroking?”
“Seriously, Wesley, did losing
Dian trigger a
psychotic episode or something? And is it contagious? Because based on
your dream, I’m driving out to fight one of the most powerful
villains in the world!”
Starman was indeed driving an open jeep
in the
desert towards the capital city of Khandaq. In the passenger seat next
to him was Fury, wearing her old costume of red and yellow. Wesley
Dodds sat in the backseat, dressed in simple clothes like Jack was.
“I already told you what to
do,” Wesley
said again. “And you’re not really fighting him.
You’re just distracting him.”
“Killing somebody is a good
distraction,” Fury muttered. “Snap go the bones and
oozing
goes the blood, nice clean fun. The spooky man found Hector very
distracting.”
Jack Knight shot Fury a glance from out
the corner
of his eye. “Um, Fury, right? So, uh, what’s your
story?”
“I met a man,” Fury
told him.
“Hector was his name. He died, but then he came back and
married
me. He kind of had to, because I was pregnant, but I love him anyway.
Two years later the spooky man came and killed Hector, and then he said
he would take my baby away. He even named the baby after he was born.
Daniel.”
“You were pregnant for two
years?” Jack
asked under his breath. He looked at Wesley in the rear-view mirror,
but the older man just shook his head. Better not to question it, he
was saying.
“Then Daniel was
gone, taken by the
spooky man. Three kindly ladies helped me to kill him, even though by
then I didn’t want them too. I’d thought Daniel was
dead,
you see, but he was there, in the spooky man’s house. Next
time I
saw Daniel he was the spooky man, only dressed in white. He sent me
away, said I was lost to him forever. But sometimes I think I see him
in my dreams.”
“There was a
funeral,” Wesley added.
“You might remember it Jack, though I didn’t until
Lyta
mentioned him just now. I may have seen him once before, while he was
alive.”
“Well,” Jack began.
“Whatever you
two are smoking, I want some after this is over. Hey, if
we’re
lucky, Captain Marvel might have already won the fight by the time we
reach the city.”
“Not this time.”
Wesley Dodds shook his
head. “But you should get there just in time to save his
life.
Five blocks into the city, drop me off, the leave the car after another
eight blocks. Any farther and you might get shot at, but any sooner and
you might not get to him in time.”
“Ten blocks it is
then,” Jack replied.
“I’ve been shot at before.”
Just then, the first burnt out buildings
of Shiruta,
capital of Khandaq, loomed in the near distance.
While the
heroes were about to enter his city, Black Adam was dealing with the
latest rebellion. Over the past few days, scores of insurgencies had
risen up to threaten his reign. He saw that all were legacies of Asim
Muhannand’s reign – either soldiers that used to
have
followed him or rebels that had once fought against him – and
on
the whole they were simply annoyances. Black Adam would endure the
bullets and the explosions, and his wrath against the interlopers was
always swift and merciless.
At that moment one man was rushing
against Black
Adam, explosives strapped to his chest. In spite of the hail of bullets
bouncing off his chest, Black Adam did notice this event. Rather than
seek to avoid the suicide bomber, Black Adam rushed at the man, held
him by the waist, and flew with him into the crowd of gunmen. The
explosives went off. Only Black Adam stood amidst the gore, unscathed.
“Weak-minded fools,”
ranted the maddened
god-favored. “With fire crackers you hope to collapse a
mountain!
You will learn the futility of rising against me even if it means
breaking you all limb from limb!”
“Holy moley! Black
Adam. It’s time
somebody put a stop to you!”
Moving too fast for Black Adam to react,
Captain
Marvel swooped in like a red thunderbolt. The crash as he collided with
the other Shazam-blessed was deafening, and scattered the remains of
the insurgents. An uppercut from the Big Red Cheese sent his
arch-nemesis flying up into the air.
Less than a few hundred feet over the
wrecked
streets did Black Adam stop, utilizing his own power of flight to halt
the ascent. He glared down at the so-called Earth’s Mightiest
Mortal with deep loathing.
“With joking taunts you seek
to stop
me?” Black Adam sneered. “No doubt the Wisdom of
Solomon is
at work, making light of the situation so that the child’s
mind
won’t shatter against the concept of what I hope to achieve!
Come
at me, you pawn of lesser gods! I know my quest is just, for the Wisdom
of Zehuti guides me, and a lord of the underworld is superior to a
lowly mortal king!”
“Mortals admit their
mistakes,” Captain
Marvel shot back. “We also force others to own up to
theirs!” With this scream of sage knowledge, the
Earth’s
Mightiest Mortal flew up at he who had once been the Mighty Adam.
In the skies above Khandaq, the
instruments of gods
clashed.
A small group
of armed men went rushing by. They failed to see Sandman as they did
so. He was hidden by shadows, and even had they noticed him Wesley
doubted they would have taken much heed. He was, after all, just an old
man.
As soon as they were out of sight,
Wesley Dodds
continued on his way, sticking to the shadows as he did so. At his age
speed couldn’t be relied upon, had never really been relied
on in
fact. Wesley had always acted more through stealth than strength,
striking from the shadows and with billowing clouds of smoke in his
former career as the Sandman. These were ancient practices
he’d
learned in travels through the Orient, and had not been forgotten in
his late years.
Many of the buildings in Shiruta were
burnt out
shells, the result of bombings and extended fighting of the past few
decades. There were few landmarks in the ancient capital, and someone
unfamiliar with the surrounding areas could easily get lost. Wesley
Dodds, on the other hand, moved purposely through the city he had never
in his considerable life visited.
In the near distance Wesley heard pained
screaming.
Not panicked, indicating the source was under attack. No, Wesley marked
the screams as being agonized yet it halted for brief intervals, as
though the source was going through spasms of great pain. Deciding that
stealth should be cast aside for speed, Wesley moved quickly towards
the sounds of a woman going through labor.
Wesley found her in a room on the second
floor of a
crumbling five-story tenement. The woman was more a girl, too young to
be going through her current experience, Wesley thought. She was also
alone, and Wesley noticed a small pool of blood beneath her. Suddenly
panicked himself, Wesley slowly moved towards the woman.
The approach did not go unnoticed. The
girl turned
her head in Wesley’s direction with a start. A pained and
frightful expression on her face, she raised a knife that Wesley had
not previously noticed.
“I’m not going to
hurt you,” said
Wesley slowly, his hands raised with palms out to show that he was
unarmed. “Help. I’m here to help.” He
said the last
word carefully, praying that she would understand.
Maybe it was more from pain and
exhaustion than
trust, but the girl made no objection as Wesley moved closer. She
screamed again as new life was pushing its way out of her. Wesley set
out to do the best he could, to ensure that both mother and child would
survive the ordeal.
“I will not let your son
die,” Wesley
whispered to the screaming girl.
Punches thrown at the speed of sound
connected with
a force equivalent to nuclear explosions. The shockwave of each traded
blow resonated across the city, shuddering stone. So it was that
Captain Marvel and Black Adam, men blessed with the power of gods,
clashed.
“The world has changed, Black
Adam,”
Captain Marvel yelled. “Your way of doing things
isn’t
acceptable in modern society.”
“Nor are your own!”
roared Black Adam in
response. “Where is this society of values and morality, boy?
How
many politicians have ignored the suffering her in Khandaq? Even among
children your own age you are the exception rather than the rule!
Instead of rule by the mightiest we have rule by the most dishonest,
murderers to dictate terms of the rest of the world and lie to their
citizens!”
In a sudden move of speed, Black Adam
flew around
Captain Marvel and ran his arms under the hero’s shoulders to
lock behind his head.
“Vilify my methods all you
like, but you
cannot doubt what I am,” Black Adam hissed into Captain
Marvel’s ear. “And now, little boy, let us see what
you
are. Shazam!”
Just as he said this, Black Adam pulled
back and
then released Captain Marvel. That mystical lightning that went for the
black and gold villain struck the red and gold hero instead!
Light flashed. When this faded, all
anybody could
see was a young boy plummeting down towards the torn streets. Though
Billy Batson’s mouth he was too dazed and buffeted by winds
to
exclaim anything.
But a figure leapt from the shadows, a
woman in red
and yellow who believed she saw her own lost child in the falling boy.
Fury caught Billy out of the air and landed gracefully, clutching him
close to her.
Black Adam slammed into Fury from
behind. Billy
Batson went flying out of her arms and fell hard against the sidewalk.
Unconscious, he would not be Captain Marvel again for a while.
“No woman robs me of my
kill!” Black
Adam roared as he backhanded Fury through a wall.
Lying in the filth as she was, Lyta Hall
experienced
déjà vu. A figure in black was turning away from
her,
started towards a child. At the familiar scene, fury welled up in the
Fury. A power locked inside of her began to seep out.
Standing over the prone Billy Batson,
Black Adam
raised a foot over the boy’s head. “Now the wizard
shall
learn what it is like to lose a son.”
“No!”
Something out of Black Adam’s
sight took hold
his arms and legs. Thrive about as he might, the god-powered being
could not free himself, and his eyes could not catch precisely what it
was that held him. Cast shadows on the street near Black Adam were what
appeared to be three figures, women.
“Your family
is dead because you were not there to save them, Teth-Adam.”
The voice that spoke ran in a chorus of three differing tones, laced
with contempt and a desire for wrath. “Their deaths are your
fault. It is time you
paid for your crime!”
A limp figure flew past Starman on his
way to the
battle-site, nearly colliding with him. It was Black Adam, he saw.
Turning away from the now-distant figure, Starman saw another shape
moving towards him. At first glance it appeared to be Lyta Hall, but
there seemed something wrong with her hair, and a robe was flapping
about around her. Jack thought he saw three shadows cast behind Fury,
and attributed this to separate lights.
“Umm, hi Lyta,” Jack
stated meekly.
“I see you handled Black Adam without me.”
“The murderer
of sons has yet to be punished fully,”
Fury replied in the
chorus of three voices. Red eyes saw into Jack Knight’s soul.
“But
you…in trying to
deny your rightful role you sentenced the brother to death. In his name
shall I render your soul!”
Screeching with three shrill voices,
Fury cast
herself at Starman. Light cast by the Cosmic Rod shone against the
brass wings and claws that had suddenly appeared on her. Jack flew up
higher, dodging the lunge.
Before Fury could walk the mist and
share kindness,
the world around her faded to black and white. Jack Knight suddenly
seemed so far away, and hovering nearby so close that Fury could touch
him was a man in red and red, holding a much smaller Cosmic Rod.
“Leave my brother
alone,” the deceased
David Knight ordered Fury. “Harassing him is my
job.”
At the edge of the black and white
world, Jack
Knight flew off into color. “Bye Lyta,” he called
out
behind. “Have a nice conversation with David while I handle
the
Nimoy look-alike!”
A baby’s
cries filled the dead silence. Wesley held the boy in his arms, the
farthest thing from joy on his face. On the floor lay the girl, the
boy’s mother, dead from injuries and the stress of childbirth.
“I won’t let
anything happen to
him,” Wesley promised the deceased. Slowly he stood up, the
little baby in his arms crying loudly. Behind Wesley, dull light
flashed briefly. When he turned, the sight didn’t surprise
him in
the least.
“You look just like in my
dream,” Wesley
breathed.
The man standing before Wesley Dodds was
tall, and
resembled a man. But Wesley had seen enough to know an android when he
saw it. This artificial man wore a brown cloak with red lining and
yellow fringes. The hood was pulled down, revealing pale yellow skin
with red at the mouth and a spot of red on top of the head to mimic
hair. The man’s bodysuit was yellow and brown with red
friends,
and a red symbol on the chest appeared to be a circular maze with an
hourglass in the center.
“You’ve never met me
before, but it is a
great pleasure to see you again, my old friend.” The new
arrival
extended his hand. “My name is Tyler. In the far future, I
will
be created to act as that era’s Hourman.”
“I thought the costume looked
familiar.”
Holding the baby in the crook of his elbow, Wesley extended his other
hand to clasp Hourman’s. “So, from the future, huh?
You can
travel through time.”
“For precisely one hour each
day I possess
complete mastery over time,” Hourman replied. “The
limit is
self-imposed. No individual should possess such power.” The
android’s gaze lowered onto the baby boy. “Ever
since I
read of this moment in your memoirs, I have sought out a time and place
suitable for him. Now that I have found one, I’ve come to
take
him there.”
“The boy’s name is
Carter,” Wesley
insisted. “Carter Hall, and he’s one of my dearest
friends,
so you had better take care of him.”
“I was programmed with the
memories of Rex
Tyler. The connection is not exclusive, Wesley.” Hourman
brought
his hands forward to accept the child. Wesley hesitated.
“You say that you can control
time. Is it
possible for you to…?”
“Wesley, you’re wife
died a natural
death, after enjoying a rich and full life.”
“I know,” Wesley
replied, his eyes
downcast. “What I mean is, ever since she’d gone
I’ve, I’ve felt so empty inside. Extant, that
bastard, he
killed Rex and the others by accelerating their aging. Could you do
that, to me?”
Hourman shook his head. “Your
time has not yet
come, old friend.”
“Right.” Wesley
smiled. “I need to
write about this moment, shouldn’t I? So you’ll
know to
come here.” Shaking only a little, Sandman handed his
reincarnated friend over to the future Hourman. “Goodbye
Carter.
It was great seeing you again.”
“The next time will be sooner
than you
think,” responded Hourman. He then vanished, with the child,
in a
flash of light.
A shining star
illuminated the sky over Khandaq. Jack Knight was holding the Cosmic
Rod in both hands, drawing on almost all of its power to fend off Black
Adam’s attacks. Even the glancing blows threatened to shatter
the
Cosmic Rod’s force field. Each impact gave Jack a headache,
which
he welcomed.
The headaches helped Starman focus.
Reminded him of
how desperate the situation was, and each headache seemed to jar loose
some memories. Jack saw himself with his family, participating in the
common fights and the occasional good times.
The remote was
grabbed out of Jack’s hand by David who turned the channel
saying
The Two Jakes was a dumb movie.
“This is your last chance to
surrender,”
was the lame quip that Jack spouted off.
Rather than respond, Black Adam landed a
direct
punch on Starman’s force field. The energy sputtered and gave
way. A fist that could crush diamonds took hold of the Cosmic Rod.
Black Adam pulled Jack Knight close to him, so that they were
face-to-face.
“Once again, science proves
inferior to
magic.”
Jack Knight allowed himself a smile.
“Oh yeah?
Good thing I absorbed me some. Shazam.”
The word itself did nothing. Jack just
said it to
sound cool. It was the mental command that told the Cosmic Rod to
release the lightning bolt that Captain Marvel had summoned hours ago.
Magical electricity crackled out of the Cosmic Rod and through Black
Adam. An explosion of light forced the two men apart, with Jack Knight
in sole possession of his rod. In this display of illumination, a
second flash of light went unnoticed.
Theo Adam landed on the rooftop a short
distance
below. Other than stun him, the fall did relatively little damage.
Breathing heavily, Theo Adam lifted himself to his hands and knees.
“Oh, you are going to die for
that.
Sha-aarrgghh!”
The spear punctured through
Theo’s side at an
angle below the right shoulder, between the ribs and just missing the
lung. The spear head was imbedded into the roof, but fortunately for
Theo Adam the shaft didn’t go through his skin. Nearly
overwhelmed by the pain, the mortal man rolled over onto his back,
clutching his bloody side in agony.
Flying down directly at Theo Adam was
him. Except
for the four straps meeting at a hawk symbol, his chest was bare. At
the back a pair of massive wings were connected to the straps,
feathered but artificial. The actual source of flight, however, was the
belt worn around his waist, made from an unnatural metal not from
Earth. What appeared to be the head of an actual giant hawk covered the
top half of his face, right down to the full open beak. With his head
tilted down just a little, one would assume that they were looking at
an actual hawk/man.
It was Hawkman that dived at Theo Adam.
One arm was
raised high, with a heavy mace clasped in that hand. Swung low and
across, the mace struck on the left side just below Theo
Adam’s
jaw.
Mercifully, the shock of the impact
knocked the man
out immediately. Teeth and blood exploded out into the night air,
accompanied by the sound of bone shattering. When Hawkman landed, his
feet trampled over fresh blood. With his free hand Hawkman grasped the
spear, wrenched it free of the roof.
The only witness to it thus far was
unconscious, but
the impossible had happened. Hawkman had returned.
Some hours
later, Captain Marvel was standing over the bed where the unconscious
Theo Adam lay. Tubes fed drugs into the man’s body, keeping
him
unconscious and pain free. Behind Captain Marvel, a winged shape filled
the doorway.
“A plane is on its way to
transport him to the
states,” Hawkman told Captain Marvel. “Your
authorities
will figure out what to do with him then. More than likely
he’ll
be kept like this for the rest of his life, unable to speak or do much
of anything else.”
“For the last time,
I’m not letting you
cut out his tongue,” Captain Marvel stated. “Maybe
a
hypnotist is all he needs. Just command him to never say it again, and
that would be that.”
“The mind is a funny
thing,” Hawkman
replied. “Even when you think it damaged beyond all repair,
something can happen to surprise you.”
A few steps forward and Hawkman was
standing next to
Captain Marvel, watching the unconscious alter-ego of Black Adam.
“Thousands of years ago, and I
remember
everything as though it were yesterday,” the reincarnation of
Prince Khufu said. “Even back when he was called Mighty Adam,
I
never really trusted him.”
“Wasn’t he a hero
then?” Captain
Marvel asked.
“If you asked him,
he’d say he never
stopped being a hero,” responded Hawkman. “Today
his
actions are unacceptable, but in those days brutality was acceptable,
even preferable, so long as the ends were noble. What I mean is that I
never heard him say the word once. The entire time I knew him, it was
only as the Mighty Adam. From the moment the lightning transformed him,
he never turned back.”
In understanding, Captain Marvel nodded
his head.
“It’s a hard thing, to give up so much
power.”
“And still you do it every
day,” said
Hawkman. “Most of your time is spent as a normal boy, going
through all those difficult things that normal boys go through. That
you’re willing to give up the power proves that you can be
trusted with it. That must be the wizard’s test.”
“Maybe,” agreed
Captain Marvel. “I
passed, but Black Adam failed.” The cheeks of the Big Red
Cheese
colored a little. “Speaking of those normal problems,
I’d
better leave and get some sleep for school. Even if he woke up now,
without the drugs, it doesn’t look at he can speak the
word.”
Turning away from the bed, Captain
Marvel looked
Hawkman in the face. “How is it that you know who I really
am?”
Hawkman smiled. “I
don’t. There’s
just something about you that tells me you’re really a
kid.”
The sun was
rising on Khandaq. Outside the royal palace in Shirutu, Jack Knight and
Wesley Dodds were loading up the jeep for their departure. Carefully,
Jack set a heavy box into the rear.
“At least I got something out
of this
trip,” he told Wesley. “Who knew a ruthless
dictator would
have had such a large collection of Beta videos.”
“Yes,” Wesley
replied dryly. “It
almost makes saving all those lives worthwhile.”
“Hey, these are just a
bonus,” Jack
explained. “The real treasure is all those ancient weapons
Hawkman agreed to donate to the Opal City Museum. That place has been
short on exhibits since the Mist’s attack.”
Wesley Dodds didn’t say
anything, and for the
next few minutes Jack loaded the jeep up in silence. Eventually he
spoke up again.
“Is he anything like you
remember?”
“I can’t really say
right now,”
Wesley said. “The Carter I know probably wouldn’t
have
injured Black Adam like that. But the fact is that he’s not
Carter, not exactly.”
“No, I’m
not.”
The two men turned around. Hawkman stood
on the
palace steps, wearing the wings and the helmet. Slowly, he started down
the steps towards Starman and Sandman.
“In my head, memories of all
my past lives
exist. I remember leading a rebellion with Chay-Ara at my side, of
Hath-Set sticking that dagger into my body. That’s Khufu, my
first life, but there were so many others. The last life, the man you
remember, he was nothing like that first life. Carter Hall may have
been the reincarnation of Prince Khufu Kha-Tarr, but they grew up in
different eras, experienced different things. This is also true with
me.”
Hawkman put on a hand on
Wesley’s shoulder.
“I’m not Carter Hall. Before I learned the truth
about my
history, I lived a life that shaped me into a different man. But I do
remember my past lives, and I remember the friendship we once
shared.”
“Over the years,
I’ve lost a great
number of friends,” Wesley said in response. He glanced over
at
Jack. “I’ve also made some new friends.
Carter’s
dead, and I know you won’t take his place.” Wesley
extended
his hand, which Hawkman grasped. “But I would be honored to
call
you friend.”
“Excellent,” said
Hawkman. “Here,
let me help you.” Alone, he picked up a large box that Jack
and
Wesley would have had trouble lifting together. “Thank you
for
bringing all of those medical supplies. Black Adam is sleeping
soundly.”
“Well, I’d hoped to
use those in the
delivery,” Wesley replied. “Unfortunately, your
mother
couldn’t be moved.”
Hawkman was shaking a little as he set
the box down.
“Hopefully I can find somebody in the city who knew her. The
woman who raised me will always be my mother, of course. But still, it
would be nice to know something.”
“The folks in this city
don’t seem to be
the most cooperative sort,” Starman mentioned. “A
few of
them shot at me last night. I mean, sure, stopping Black Adam seems to
have calmed them down, but the place is still unstable.”
“In a way, I’m one
of these
people,” said Hawkman. “I look like them, at least.
More
than a few of them saw us stop Black Adam, at any rate. That should
help smooth things along, I hope.”
“So you plan on staying here
indefinitely?” Sandman asked.
“This is my
country,” answered Hawkman.
“Black Adam has been removed from power, maintaining the
status
quo. Technically, I don’t have any powers, and I’m
hardly
an outside influence. The United Nations shouldn’t have any
objection to my being here.”
“What about Fury,
though?” added Jack.
“They may object to her being in your care.”
“She’s welcome to
leave whenever she
likes.”
The previous
night, Lyta Hall stood at one of the palace balconies, looking out over
the city. Behind her stood Hawkman, his wide frame obscured by the
shadows.
“I talked with a dead man
today,” she
said dreamily. “The world lost all color, except for him.
That
sort of thing stands out, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose so,”
responded Hawkman.
“He told me a great many
things,” Fury
went on. “Hector is still out there somewhere. You remember
Hector, right? He was your son.”
“No,” Hawkman said
adamantly. “He
was Carter’s son. We’ve been through this,
Lyta.”
“Like father like
son,” Lyta sang,
ignoring Hawkman. “Just like you, Hector came back from out
of
the blue. Daniel too, he was dead I think. My baby boy is in charge of
dreams. I’m so proud. Aren’t you proud of your
grandson?”
“He’s not my
grandson,” Hawkman
stated. “Carter Hall was a different man.”
“My Hector’s out
there,” continued
Lyta, as though Hawkman hadn’t said a thing.
“He’s
somewhere waiting for me. The dead man said so, I think. Telling me to
let go, that was reverse psychology. I’ll find Hector,
we’ll have another baby after the usual nine months, and
neither
of them will die. After all, you don’t die. It’s
only fair
your children don’t either.”
“I can’t let you
leave,” Hawkman
said as he moved towards her. His hand started for her shoulder.
“Lyta, you’re not well.”
“Touch me and
I shall rend the flesh from your bones!”
Fury hissed
without turning around. Hawkman paused. Lyta resumed in her normal
voice. “I know you’re not really Carter.
He’s
somewhere in-between, sharing bodies with his wife and a
friend’s
son. Hector will bring him back, then Carter will fight you and
we’ll all find out who’s real. Everybody will love
to see
that.”
Before Hawkman could stop her, Lyta Hall
leapt off
the balcony. She landed nimbly on the ground and ran off into the night.
“Hunh. I’ll have to
be more choosy about
who my son dates in this lifetime.”
THE END
Hello
All:
This is the FIRST of what I hope will be many issues in this BRAND NEW
TITLE. I will admit to being lazy, or maybe just a bit
unexperienced and leery of creating a new page so I have been shunting
stories into JLU's SHOWCASE title these past months. That
stops
now! Upon receiving Steve Crosby's GREAT issue concerning the
RETURN of HAWKMAN, I knew right away this was too big for
SHOWCASE. What to do? Create a new title of
course...
JLU: 2001 PRESENTS will be for those stories that do not fit in, but
also do not deserve to be shunted into some other title for convenience
sake. Think of it as our version of FIRST ISSUE SPECIAL, or
even
Brave and the Bold. However you want to look at it, figure
only
the best will make it here...
And what better story to kick off a new title than with a story by
Steve Crosby. A lot of people asked about Hawkman and
submitted
props over the last few months, but none of them seemed quite
right. Then came Crosby! His prop caught my
attention and
seemed the way to go, involving a number of JLU characters as well as
shifting a few stagnant plots from other stories into High
Gear!
Steve always delivers, which is why he is the ROCK here at JLU!
Next up in JLU: 2001 PRESENTS will be a tie-in with JLA/Avengers, that
in turn ties into Gary's LOST at AVENGERS REBORN! After that
will
be some stuff coinciding with JLU's next Major Event-
AFTREMATH!
If you have something really special to tell- something outstanding and
site-altering, now is the time to submit!
